Without Emma
by ZizhunWriter
Summary: What would have happened if Emma had never found the cursed town of Storybrooke, Maine?
1. Old Age

**Author's Note: Warning for extreme angst. Also, if you love Regina, this story may not be for you.**

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"How can you not believe there's a curse?" he questioned, his voice raspy and weak as he spoke to Archie for what was probably the last time. "Don't you remember when I was Regina's son?"

Archie's look was blank, as it always had been. At least he tried. He was one of the few who put up with Henry and didn't call him crazy to his face. In Henry's mind, Archie was his only true friend. "But Henry, you're too old to be her son," he pointed out, trying to use logic. "You're ninety eight."

"But the curse," Henry insisted, before a cough racked his body. How ironic, that he would die of old age while everyone he knew literally hadn't aged a day. "Archie, you have to believe. Someone has to break the curse. You have to try."

Archie smiled, but it was sad, and the disbelief was evident in his eyes. "I'll try, Henry." He was just trying to reassure him, and Henry couldn't blame the psychiatrist. The only one he could blame was Regina. She'd cast the curse; she'd tortured everyone in town. Sure, she'd given Henry a chance to leave when he was no longer a cute, innocent child. He'd taken it, traveling all over the world in search of Emma or a clue of how to break Regina's curse. There had been none.

"Archie, you have to promise me one more thing." Another coughing fit overcame him, and Archie gripped his hand, reassuring Henry that he wasn't alone. Even though he was the only one who aged, and the only one who believed, he'd never quite been alone. He'd always had Archie, from when he was young all the way up to now.

"Anything, Henry."

"Don't forget me?" Maybe Archie would remember him, would notice how his life was fading from the memories of everyone else. Maybe, Archie would finally believe in the curse, and would succeed where Henry had failed. Maybe, Henry's life wouldn't be in vain; and failing to find Emma wouldn't mean the town was cursed forever.

"I could never forget you, Henry," Archie promised. He meant it; but would his willpower be strong enough to fight against the curse? Henry could only hope so.

While Archie's promise might not be enough for him to break the curse, it was enough for Henry to let go and finally stop fighting. "Never … never give up," he whispered. He faintly heard the machines start to beep, but they weren't as important as Archie was. Henry was leaving, but Archie would never be able to escape, unless he was somehow able to remember. "Never stop fighting." Henry closed his eyes, not hearing Archie's protests, or the continued beeping of the machines. All he could feel now was freedom; the same freedom he hoped the rest of Storybrooke would one day achieve.

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 **Scarletclarinet beta read for me, and is on Tumblr. Thank you so much for helping me with this! Also thanks to my sister who read it as well.**


	2. Memories

**Author's Note: So I wasn't planning on continuing, but Jokermask18 thought I should do more. Here's what happens after Henry's death. I plan do play around with this a bit more in the future too. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!**

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Archie knew he had to have seen patients die before. He counseled many people who had a fatal illness, like cancer or kidney failure. Yet, watching Henry slip away felt like the first time one of his patients had passed away. It left him feeling raw, like he'd lost a part of himself.

He slowly made his way to his car, trying not to focus too much on Henry's last words. _Don't forget me._ How could Archie forget Henry? He'd been one of Archie's patients for almost as long as he could remember. Their relationship had been more than just that of a psychiatrist and his client. Archie and Henry had grown close soon after they'd met. Perhaps they had always been close. Either way, Archie had always thought of Henry as a friend.

It was only once he was sitting in front of the wheel that Archie realized he wasn't headed home. Pongo would be waiting for him, but the Dalmatian could wait a little longer. Henry was dead. It had been coming for a while, but it still felt like too much of a shock. His emotions were too raw to do anything but go to the bar. He could use a glass of whiskey, or two, or three. After all, it wasn't every day you lost a son.

Son? No, that wasn't quite the right word, not for a ninety-eight year old man. Yet, Archie had always felt that Henry, while old enough to be Archie's father, was like a son to him. It had never made sense, but it didn't have to. Henry Mills was the closest thing Archie had ever had to a son. He wouldn't even have to try to keep his promise. Archie would never be able to forget Henry. Not even all the whiskey in the world would help him do that.

…

"I miss him," Archie confided to Marco over lunch at Granny's. "Henry was a very special person. I can't help but feel we lost him too soon."

"Who?"

Archie stared at the blank look on Marco's face. Had Marco forgotten Henry already? "Henry Mills? He just passed away. He'd been my client for … years."

"Oh, that's right. His name was Henry." Archie nodded, confirming what Marco was saying. He knew his friend couldn't have forgotten Henry. He'd just forgotten his name. Marco hadn't known Henry that well, after all. It made sense that his friend would have forgotten some of the details. "Didn't he die a while ago?"

"Yes. But I still miss him." It was like how he'd feel if Marco died. He would never be able to forget that good of a friend.

…

She was raging, and drunk. That was why they'd called him; not even Graham had been able to calm Regina down. They needed someone whose job it was to help people through their emotions, so Graham had called him.

Archie walked toward her, bravely taking the seat beside her as everyone else watched, holding their breath in anticipation. "It's someone's birthday, I hear," he said in a non-threatening voice, watching for her reaction. Graham had said she wouldn't stop mentioning that; perhaps he could get through to her once he knew more.

"Henry's," she answered, taking another sip of the alcohol Archie should really try to get away from her.

"Your father's."

"No, my son's," she insisted, and Archie didn't try to convince her she'd never had a son, not when she was this drunk. "My son-brother-father's birthday." She laughed darkly, taking a giant gulp of her beverage. "He died! He died of old age. Old age! While I haven't aged a day in over a hundred years!"

"Would you like to visit his grave?" Archie asked in an attempt to get her out of the bar and away from the alcohol. She was obviously incredibly drunk. "I know you leave flowers there every Wednesday. Perhaps we could …"

"Not that Henry!" she snapped, causing him to recoil and Graham to take a step forward, ready to protect Archie if she became physically violent. "The Henry with a simple tombstone that I never visit. The Henry that defied me with his last breath! The Henry you counseled!"

Archie couldn't argue with her but he couldn't remember ever counseling … "Wait, Henry." His memory was fuzzy, but he was pretty sure he could picture an old man, dying in a hospital. Was that the Henry she spoke of?

"Time took him, like it won't take all of us. And good thing too. He almost spoiled my revenge." She didn't seem to mean that, but at least she was calming.

"Madam Mayor, Henry wouldn't want you to be drunk like this on his behalf. Maybe we should get you home."

"Henry wouldn't care. He never cared about me. All he ever wanted was to stop me," Regina insisted, yet she let him help her to her feet. "He cared about you more than me. He cared about everyone here more than me, and I was the victim. He never saw that. Never."

Graham came along on her other side, and together the two men helped her home, where at the very least, she wouldn't be able to disturb anyone else. They both stood in her driveway, finally convincing her to go to bed and get some sleep. "Do you know the Henry she was speaking of?" Graham questioned, curious.

"Maybe? I can picture someone in my head. But, I think I was just trying to make sense out of an illogical situation. How could someone be a son, a brother, and a father to the same woman?"

Despite Archie's logic, for a week after the incident, he kept feeling like he was forgetting something of vital importance.

…

"Do you remember him?" Archie looked up from his cup of tea and muffin, startled by the mayor's sudden start to a conversation. "Do you remember Henry?"

"Your father? He was the mayor before you," Archie responded, wondering why Regina felt it so vital to quiz him on history over his breakfast.

"Not that Henry! Another Henry?"

"As far as I know, that's the only Henry who has lived in Storybrooke. Unless, are we talking about a king of England?"

He looked at her quizzically, waiting to see where this conversation was going. "You've forgotten him. Everyone has."

"Who was he?" Archie asked. He had a nagging feeling that this Henry was important somehow, but he wasn't quite sure.

"He was someone who existed to make my life harder. Nothing more." A look in her eyes betrayed her, whoever this Henry was, she'd cared about him. "Besides, even if I told you, you'd forget again."

He wanted to protest, to insist he could remember, but she was already stalking away. He was curious, but by the end of the day he'd already forgotten. Henry was the name of Regina's father and a few kings of England. Archie had never heard of anyone else with that name in his living memory.

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 **Beta read by my sister and scarletclarinet, who really helped me with the begining of this. Thank you for your help!**


	3. Lupus Mutton

Archie climbed up the ladder into the attic, coughing a bit as he stirred up dust that had settled long ago. Pongo whined, staring up at his owner as if to say he didn't like Archie being up there all alone.

"It's alright, boy. As soon as I put this file away, I'll come back down," Archie reassured his dog. The Dalmatian sighed, before laying down at the foot of the ladder to await his master's swift return.

The psychiatrist continued to make his way toward the filing cabinets, where he kept extra information on all of his patients. Archie had way too much paperwork, and he could barely keep it all organized. His home office was covered in papers, and the filing cabinets at his work were filled to the brim. He needed a place to keep extra information that he didn't need on hand, but might need access to in the future. That was why he'd chosen to keep several filing cabinets in his attic. Since things were even more cluttered than normal, Archie had decided to put away a few files of Lupus Mutton's that he no longer needed.

He walked past the filing cabinets, looking for the one that stored information on people with a last name beginning with M, and wondered how it was possible for him to have taken so many notes in his lifetime. The amount of paperwork he'd created seemed enormous, but he supposed that was due to his job. He needed extensive notes on his patients if he was going to help them.

Finally, he found the M cabinet. Opening the drawer, he started to search for Mutton. He passed Ma, and Me, getting closer. However, when he reached Mi, a particular name jumped out at him: Henry Mills.

At first, he couldn't say why it caught his attention. Archie had fewer folders on Henry Mills than he did on any of his other patients; if anything it would have made sense for the name to slip his notice. Then it occurred to him; Henry Mills was Regina's father. How could Archie have files on someone he'd never met?

He set down Mr. Mutton's file on top of the cabinet, grabbing the last of Henry's files to flip through. Perhaps he wasn't the one who'd written these files. Perhaps the psychiatrist before him had, or maybe the person who owned the filing cabinet had accidently left these in there. But neither case explained why Archie hadn't noticed this sooner.

He opened the file, shocked to find that the handwriting was his own. He had, somehow, managed to treat a patient he couldn't even remember. Archie flipped through it, verifying that these were his words. Everything, from the phrases he used to the unusual way he wrote his Ts and Fs all made it very clear that these were his notes. He had, apparently, treated Henry Mills when the man was in his 90s, despite the fact Archie knew the Mayor had died when he was 71; long before Archie had the chance to meet him.

Whining from below drew his attention from the strange files. Pongo was still waiting for him to return, he realized. "I'll be back soon, boy." He quickly put away Mr. Mutton's file in its proper place, and with only a slight hesitation, grabbed all of Henry's. While his study was cluttered, the living room wasn't. Archie had promised himself he'd do his best to cut down on paperwork. But Henry's files weren't paperwork; they were a mystery to be solved. Archie knew from experience the files would nag at him until he'd actually dealt with their contents.

He climbed down, somehow managing to carry the dozens of files while still keeping a secure hold on the ladder. Pongo licked his free hand as soon as his feet were on the floor, obviously relieved Archie was safe. "Sorry, Pongo." Archie scratched his head a little, before leading the way to the living room. "I discovered a mystery. We're going to figure out how I know Henry Mills, boy." Pongo barked, as if to say what Archie was thinking: how was it possible?

"I don't know, boy, I don't know," he muttered, heading to the couch and laying down the files on the coffee table in front of him. His eyebrows were already pulled together as he flipped open the first file. "But I intend to find out."

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 **This was beta read for me by scarletclarinet on tumblr. Thanks so much for your help!**


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